ATTACK!
Being a farmer at heart, I have always enjoyed the animals we have collected, adopted or just plain cared for through the years. It has been my duty to see to their well being as well as doctoring, and finally the last rites. My wife has always steadfastly maintained that she was/is a city girl and as such she could enjoy the live species from a distance. Since she has distinct allergies to anything with fur dander or a hint of animal dust, she has been given the latitude to do the caring from a discrete distance.
There are always exceptions in our lives, however.
Coming home the other night just past sunset, when day was truly beginning to fade, I found the house dark and unoccupied. Wandering around the house I discovered that my wife was still working out in the flowerbeds, tending the floribunda.
One thing my wife does enjoy outside the house, is planting flowers and weeding the flower beds. It is an endless job to keep the almost six hundred feet of beds in pristine condition. When she thinks she is done she needs to start over again. Only winter gives her a change.
As I progressed through the house and out the back door, I heard her call to me. It wasn’t a loud call but an urgent one.
“I need you.” She said.
But I could not tell from which direction she was calling.
“I’m over here.” She repeated. Which left me to determine where “over here” was.
”I’m here by the water tank.”
She had been working in the back yard and heard a great commotion by the chicken pen and had actually gone to investigate. That in itself was remarkable. In the thirty years of raising chickens, I think she has been in the chicken pen only twice. She wasn’t actually in the pen, but just outside the pen where the horse tank occupies a space accessible to both the three horses and seven geese.
The geese are big and sometimes intimidating, especially Cedric, the largest white goose. He seems to be the leader of the contingent of feathered occupants of our goose-dome.
Beverly had heard an unusual ruckus and had gone to investigate. A ruckus is not really unusual when it comes to geese. They are usually quite excitable and very noisy. This can be both annoying and calming. Annoying in that the noise can effectively keep you awake. at night if you are not used to it. However, we are usually aware when something is not right by the different voices of the geese. These different voices tell us of fright, family squabbles, social adjustments and individual contentment.
There is the usual gabbling of the geese which is just a normal talking. Squabbles break out frequently, setting off a storm of protests from whatever remaining geese not involved. It is a constant adjustment. However, one goose seems to be aloof and rarely, if ever, a party to any ubiquitous squabbling. Mae Mae is part of the herd but does enjoy human company as well.
What Bev found was Cheerio, a resident duck of the hen house, had flown the coop and was now in company of the seven very vocal geese. Evidently Cheerio invaded their cherished space and for all intents and purposes, being attacked for just being there.
Cheerio had found a modicum of protection by the horse tank, next to the chicken yard fence. As long as he kept himself small, the geese could only get to him one at a time, but still leaving his hind quarters to the vicious attacking serrated nipping bills of the much bigger geese.
Hearing the cacophony of sounds, Bev went to the rescue. Finding only a large stick, she was able to lean over the fence and horse tank to ward off any advances by attackers.
Remember, this is a city girl, not a farmer, and doubly afraid of the geese besides. As the geese advanced to harass the duck, Bev would use her big stick and upend the attacker, sending them over backward, scrambling for not only composure, but wondering what had happened.
Goose-haven was now a boiling caldron of unhappy geese, seething with excitement and even more determination to have their prey. They had never dealt with this determined city gal before, and I suppose they were left wondering, in turn, where she came from. Bev was just as determined as they were, but she carried a big stick. She never got on the other side of the fence, but fought her battle from behind a wire grid and protection of the horse tank.
She was wise to stay out of their way. Geese can leave nasty black and blue marks from wildly beating wings. Those elbows of their wings are strong and quite effectively used in battle. I know.
I arrived on the scene and immediately hopped the fence near the duck. This startled the duck and he flopped out of his protective area and back to exposing himself to attack again.
The geese know me and six of them respect me. The seventh one we will leave until another story.
As I waded into the fracas, throwing geese right and left, I kept wondering why the foul friend had decided to join the group, uninvited. I guess I will never know the answer to that question but at least I was there to rescue one errant duck that should have known better.
By this time Cheerio was aware of where he should be and kept trying to fly up and over the six foot chicken fence. It continued to be a failure. I followed that bird along three sides of the twenty foot enclosure, finally capturing him at a corner. Even as I did so, Cedric was right there still on the attack.
As I gathered the shaking duck and airlifted him to safety, I extended my reach to catch the outstretched neck of the closest attacking foul. He offered no resistance as I gathered him into my arms and soothed his ruffled feathers. Of course his close buddies came hissing their displeasure at my thus disposing their leader.
I held him for a short while, just to show him who was the ultimate boss.
Everything settled down quickly, while Bev explained to me that she actually had been there for over thirty minutes, upending first one goose and then another. She said that one goose in particular seemed to keep the others from coming near to where she did battle at the fence. The goose seemed to her, to drive the others away when they got close to Bev.
Geese are very territorial and protective of those that they deem are good to them. I have seen this many times. They are also very protective of each other, but somewhat like brothers and sisters. They can pick on each other and fight among themselves but strangers are not welcome.
Cheerio is none the less for were, except, perhaps for a handful of feathers left to blow around in the spring breezes. Perhaps he will sort out his friends and keep himself safer.
Bev, too, has learned a trick or two, using innovation and womanly wiles to keep away unwanted goosey advances. Isn’t life wonderful?
Being a farmer at heart, I have always enjoyed the animals we have collected, adopted or just plain cared for through the years. It has been my duty to see to their well being as well as doctoring, and finally the last rites. My wife has always steadfastly maintained that she was/is a city girl and as such she could enjoy the live species from a distance. Since she has distinct allergies to anything with fur dander or a hint of animal dust, she has been given the latitude to do the caring from a discrete distance.
There are always exceptions in our lives, however.
Coming home the other night just past sunset, when day was truly beginning to fade, I found the house dark and unoccupied. Wandering around the house I discovered that my wife was still working out in the flowerbeds, tending the floribunda.
One thing my wife does enjoy outside the house, is planting flowers and weeding the flower beds. It is an endless job to keep the almost six hundred feet of beds in pristine condition. When she thinks she is done she needs to start over again. Only winter gives her a change.
As I progressed through the house and out the back door, I heard her call to me. It wasn’t a loud call but an urgent one.
“I need you.” She said.
But I could not tell from which direction she was calling.
“I’m over here.” She repeated. Which left me to determine where “over here” was.
”I’m here by the water tank.”
She had been working in the back yard and heard a great commotion by the chicken pen and had actually gone to investigate. That in itself was remarkable. In the thirty years of raising chickens, I think she has been in the chicken pen only twice. She wasn’t actually in the pen, but just outside the pen where the horse tank occupies a space accessible to both the three horses and seven geese.
The geese are big and sometimes intimidating, especially Cedric, the largest white goose. He seems to be the leader of the contingent of feathered occupants of our goose-dome.
Beverly had heard an unusual ruckus and had gone to investigate. A ruckus is not really unusual when it comes to geese. They are usually quite excitable and very noisy. This can be both annoying and calming. Annoying in that the noise can effectively keep you awake. at night if you are not used to it. However, we are usually aware when something is not right by the different voices of the geese. These different voices tell us of fright, family squabbles, social adjustments and individual contentment.
There is the usual gabbling of the geese which is just a normal talking. Squabbles break out frequently, setting off a storm of protests from whatever remaining geese not involved. It is a constant adjustment. However, one goose seems to be aloof and rarely, if ever, a party to any ubiquitous squabbling. Mae Mae is part of the herd but does enjoy human company as well.
What Bev found was Cheerio, a resident duck of the hen house, had flown the coop and was now in company of the seven very vocal geese. Evidently Cheerio invaded their cherished space and for all intents and purposes, being attacked for just being there.
Cheerio had found a modicum of protection by the horse tank, next to the chicken yard fence. As long as he kept himself small, the geese could only get to him one at a time, but still leaving his hind quarters to the vicious attacking serrated nipping bills of the much bigger geese.
Hearing the cacophony of sounds, Bev went to the rescue. Finding only a large stick, she was able to lean over the fence and horse tank to ward off any advances by attackers.
Remember, this is a city girl, not a farmer, and doubly afraid of the geese besides. As the geese advanced to harass the duck, Bev would use her big stick and upend the attacker, sending them over backward, scrambling for not only composure, but wondering what had happened.
Goose-haven was now a boiling caldron of unhappy geese, seething with excitement and even more determination to have their prey. They had never dealt with this determined city gal before, and I suppose they were left wondering, in turn, where she came from. Bev was just as determined as they were, but she carried a big stick. She never got on the other side of the fence, but fought her battle from behind a wire grid and protection of the horse tank.
She was wise to stay out of their way. Geese can leave nasty black and blue marks from wildly beating wings. Those elbows of their wings are strong and quite effectively used in battle. I know.
I arrived on the scene and immediately hopped the fence near the duck. This startled the duck and he flopped out of his protective area and back to exposing himself to attack again.
The geese know me and six of them respect me. The seventh one we will leave until another story.
As I waded into the fracas, throwing geese right and left, I kept wondering why the foul friend had decided to join the group, uninvited. I guess I will never know the answer to that question but at least I was there to rescue one errant duck that should have known better.
By this time Cheerio was aware of where he should be and kept trying to fly up and over the six foot chicken fence. It continued to be a failure. I followed that bird along three sides of the twenty foot enclosure, finally capturing him at a corner. Even as I did so, Cedric was right there still on the attack.
As I gathered the shaking duck and airlifted him to safety, I extended my reach to catch the outstretched neck of the closest attacking foul. He offered no resistance as I gathered him into my arms and soothed his ruffled feathers. Of course his close buddies came hissing their displeasure at my thus disposing their leader.
I held him for a short while, just to show him who was the ultimate boss.
Everything settled down quickly, while Bev explained to me that she actually had been there for over thirty minutes, upending first one goose and then another. She said that one goose in particular seemed to keep the others from coming near to where she did battle at the fence. The goose seemed to her, to drive the others away when they got close to Bev.
Geese are very territorial and protective of those that they deem are good to them. I have seen this many times. They are also very protective of each other, but somewhat like brothers and sisters. They can pick on each other and fight among themselves but strangers are not welcome.
Cheerio is none the less for were, except, perhaps for a handful of feathers left to blow around in the spring breezes. Perhaps he will sort out his friends and keep himself safer.
Bev, too, has learned a trick or two, using innovation and womanly wiles to keep away unwanted goosey advances. Isn’t life wonderful?
-16.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment